


Venomous Love

by inkblotfox



Series: Badlands [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Knotting, Marking, Mating Bites, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pheromones, Romance, Rough Sex, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkblotfox/pseuds/inkblotfox
Summary: Tristan and Cleo have been together since her time living in the Hidden Valley, the devout Lycanroc happily following her to the Badlands of his own accord. But lately, the Salazzle has held him at arm's length for fear of his well-being and her own tumultuous emotions. Things come to a head when Tristan's own confused feelings finally allow Cleo's pheromones to break him, sending him into a feral rage. Will Cleo have the strength to see the ordeal through?





	Venomous Love

The den was quiet, bathed in the warm and calming glow of candles perched along the walls, a sharp contrast to the storm raging in the mind of its lone occupant. The Salazzle sat perched on her favorite plush, an absolutely titanic replica of a Snorlax, idly rolling a smooth rounded stone back and forth in her hand as she considered her current situation.

Days ago, she’d thought her life absolutely idyllic. True, she’d been chased out of the Hidden Valley - inconsiderate pricks had no qualm about running her out because of her  _ condition _ \- but she had a warm home in the Badlands with no shortage of affectionate partners to keep her company. Each brought their own share of talents to the den, and she found herself fond of them all in different but generally equal ways. Well. All but one, anyways.

Her grip on the pebble tightened as her mind turned again to Tristan, an unusual badger-striped Lycanroc teetering between Midday and Midnight formes with the rising and setting of the sun. She could still remember vividly the day he’d evolved, between her and a Mawhile, jealous lover of yet another Pokemon from the valley fallen sway to her pheromones. Remembered how time slowed to a crawl as she saw the furious male lash out with his maw of a horn, reaching out to pull Tristan out of the way - never mind that she could never have pulled him from harm’s way in time. The bright glow as he’d grown, fierce claws sinking into that iron horn as he stood his ground against the blow, the furious counterattack that drove the Mawhile to his knees. More than anything, she remembered her fear in that moment, a fear she’d never stopped feeling since. A fear that left her with her current predicament.

Her grip tightened again, venom from her claws leaching into the stone, making it ooze with deep violet as the corrosive liquid burned through the surface. Fear had never been enough to cow her before. She’d always been strong enough to overcome anything that might have made her tremble, there was no reason for this to be any different. But that fear clawed at her all the same, etching its way into her heart much the same way that her venom etched the stone she clutched. Irate, Cleo flung the now-ruined rock across the room, the dull thunk of its impact with the wall echoing around her as she buried her head in her hands.

Her mind came back to the problem at hand, another rock that she one way or another was corroding away. She had thus far managed a careful balance with her stalwart partner, keeping him close enough for comfort without committing herself completely to his presence. Cleo had always made a point, however pointlessly, to give her partners the freedom to leave if they wished, even as she basked in their company and affections. But Tristan was the only one she always found herself both hoping and dreading he’d take the offer. Much as she adored the Lycanroc, the thought of anything happening to him because of her - or worse, of hurting him herself - was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

Her arm’s length solution hadn’t gone unnoticed, something she shouldn’t have been surprised by. Their relationship had become strained as of late, with Tristan more and more often declining to join in with any of the usual happenings in the den in favor of wandering off on his own for hours at a time. Cleo found herself both irate at the change of attitude and embarrassed at her hypocritical reaction, but neither emotion provided her with any solution to move forward.

Her musings were interrupted as the source of her frustration returned home, the moonlight illuminating his form in the cave’s entrance. Cleo couldn’t help but look fondly at him despite her muddled feelings, though the glare she got in return hardly gave her any warm fuzzies.

“Welcome home,” she offered as he strode in. “I was hoping you’d come home before too late. I’ve missed having you home at night.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s nice to have a backup plan when the den is empty, huh?” Tristan’s icy retort had Cleo on her feet immediately, eyes narrowing at the Lycanroc.

“And what the hells is that supposed to mean, Tristan? You’ve always been-”

“Always been the one, except when anyone else is an option,” he snapped, cutting her off as he turned on her.

“That’s not true, and you know it!” Even as she said it, she could see the disbelief painted all over her lover’s face, the stone wolf unable to meet her gaze. “You… you’ve always meant…” Her voice trailed off, lacking the courage to finish her statement and drawing a hollow laugh from Tristan.

“Why should I believe what you can’t even bring yourself to say, Cleo?” His voice was sharp, sharp as the stones around his neck, dripping with contempt. “You just- You… Ughh… Yoooouuuu… Fu-fucking… You…  _ COWARD. _ ” He lifted his gaze, glaring at her with glazed eyes that Cleo knew all too well.

“Tri-Tristan… No, please… Don’t tell me…” Her eyes welled with tears as he took one unsteady step towards her, a glint of madness in his eyes. She took a step back, turned to run, fully aware even before she took her first step it was pointless. He was on her before her third step, slamming her into the floor with a painful thud, wicked claws digging into her skin as he forcibly rolled her onto her back. The way he loomed above her filled her heart with a mixture of terror and regret, horrified by what he was about to do and pained that she was driving him to this.

“Always- Grrrr… Always picking _them over me_. But not- Rrrrrrrrrr… Not tonightttt… Tonight _I’m_ _taking what_ _I want_.” She struggled in vain as he held her pinned, leaning in to drag his tongue over her exposed throat before taking it between his jaws. His razor sharp fangs pressed against her skin, poised to rip and tear, trembling-

Trembling?

Cleo struggled to process in her panicked state what that meant. Seconds dragged by as she waited for him to close his jaws, as she felt his hold on her shaking, as she felt her partner struggle above her. His hold was loose, even with his fangs and claws so well-positioned to cause harm. She could fight back, could hurt him, could drive him away once and for all. This was her chance! Her chance to save them both, with one swift kick and a gout of flame. Minutes dragged as she struggled to find the will to hurt him, trembling as much as he was, trying to will herself to do what she kept telling herself was right.

Driving him out was the option she’d gone with so far. And that choice had put her here, with the option to finish the job or be finished herself, with her most trusted partner struggling against his own instincts and trying even now to keep her safe. He had trusted her enough to put himself in this position, staying with her despite the risk. Her mind raced, even as he started to pull back. Here was her chance, one way or another. She had no choice - she had to act.

Trembling hands reached up to the Lycanroc, venomous claws against his snarling muzzle. But rather than push away, she pulled his jaw more firmly around her neck. Her hands trembled, but her resolve held firm. No other fear had ever cowed her - this one would be no different.

“Go ahead,” came her voice, soft but firm, even as her body trembled in his grasp. “Take what you want. Make me yours, Tristan… And be mine.” A sharp gasp escaped her as those fangs broke her skin, blood oozing from the wounds, just deep enough to scar. Just enough to leave a mark. Her hands found his, holding on tightly as he released her neck, and she managed a weak smile when she felt him return the grasp in kind.Their gazes met, his eyes hazy with the struggle between the poison in his system and the love in his heart, his body hard against hers as she laid herself prone for him. Slowly, her tail snaked around his waist, pulling him closer as she invited him to do exactly as he’d said, arching herself up against him as she felt the proof of his arousal grind against her nethers.

They had fucked far too many times at this point for Cleo to count, in every location and position she could imagine, so many times that lately the act had felt routine and stale. But when she felt Tristan line his drooling tip up with her, felt him part her nethers, her frame shook with anticipation she’d not felt in years. It was a fearful yearning, a moment of knowing she was crossing a threshold she couldn’t turn back from. The position was the same, the act no different. But as his throbbing cock sank into her, she knew she was giving him far more than her body this time. Her hands left his, arms wrapping around his back as he took her, claws sinking into his skin as she clung to him like the flotsam of a sinking ship.

Each thrust he made was slow, deep, forceful. Each time their hips met punctuated by a low growl. Her claws raked his back as she whimpered in his ear. Breath ragged as she wordlessly pleaded, arching into him. She winced as his paws found her hips, claws digging into her flanks as he picked up his pace, his muzzle pressed to her neck as he savored the scent of her arousal. She could feel his knot start to swell as his movements gradually lost their rhythm, a cacophony of wet slaps singing out from between them each time the swollen flesh popped in and out of her, her body clinging desperately around him as she cried out for more, cried out in release. She thrashed beneath him as she rode out the breathtaking high, singing out his name in breathy moans and sobbing for more as she ground her body up against his, aching to feel more of him.

The first high faded, a second already building when she felt his teeth nipping at her neck and across her shoulders, peppering her with a dozen love bites that she knew she’d be wearing for days. Love bites she’d wear proudly, love bites she found herself hoping would scar. His thrusts were erratic, little more than determined motions to wedge his knot into her before dragging it back out, each delve harder than the last. Her voice would not form but two words, over and over, panted and moaned and whined and pleaded. Knot me, knot me, knot me, knot me. She could do little more in his grasp, completely at his mercy as her climax built, frantically raking her claws across his back with each surge of pleasure. His pace grew fevered as he fought to push that swollen flesh past her lips one last time, balls slapping her with each attempt, his success met with a satisfyingly wet pop while they both moaned their approval to the world.

She swore she saw stars dancing between candle lights as she felt his hot spunk fill her, each rope delightfully warm, soothing an ache she hadn’t known was there. His hips kept moving even as he came, little thrusts that sent pleasant aftershocks of pleasure through her body as they rode out their climax together, and when the fog started to fade she was pleasantly surprised to find him clinging to her as tightly as she clung to him.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Certainly long enough for his knot to recede, for his cock to slip free and his excess cum to spill from her well-stuffed sex. Long enough to doze off, for his form to shift with the rising sun, for the world to turn and his mind to clear. She woke to him licking her wounds, shame and shock and confusion all over his face.

Breakfast was a silent affair as they both tried to come to grips with what had happened the night before. Several times one would open their mouth to speak, only to lose their nerve and fall quiet once more. It was an awkward tension that physically pained Cleo, moreso after the raw emotion they had just exchanged.

Thinking back, she couldn’t remember who had finally mustered the will to speak first. Likely they both had, words tumbling out all at once in a confused jumble as they tried to both speak and hear each other, finally letting free everything they had been hiding from each other. Had anyone else been home it might have been embarrassing for the two to be seen the way they were, curled up together on the oversized Snorlax, trying and failing not to cry as they admitted how scared they’d been to lose the other. It pained Cleo to know how much she had hurt Tristan, keeping him at arm’s length so long. Pained her to admit how scared she’d been to let him in, afraid that he would leave her or worse. But it was a good pain, the pain of bleeding the poison from a wound, the pain that comes before the healing. It felt as if they talked the whole day through, curled up together as the sun made its way across the sky outside, deciding together what needed to happen to move forward. When all was said and done though, as she lay with Tristan recovering from the ordeal, a glitter by the doorway caught her eye. It was the stone she’d tossed aside, still scarred by her poisonous grasp, the dried venom glittering in the sunlight. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight, pushing back into Tristan’s arms just a little more as she let sleep take her once more.


End file.
